The Anti-Christmas RhymeWhen it comes to December, (The most depressing month of the year)The Anti-Christmas Rhyme3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I seem to lack the ability to spread Christmas cheer.
The colors are just annoying and the joy makes me gag,
But I still try to act cheery, so I don't look as bad. ;w;
I used to love Christmas! I mean it was kind of a required thing,
since every child was excited as hell to see what Santa would bring.
I wonder who still believes in Santa, Christmas day after day.
Is Santa truly real? I found out the hard way...
God Dammit I can't write a poem to save my life!
I'm not that good at rhyming......I just looked up the word "strife."
Aw hell this poem's gonna be as long as long as can be.
I'd be pissed off if it suddenly went away on me.
I wonder if I should be a poet.....I easily express my emotions this way.
Holy crap, that guy is so hot....WHY DOES HE HAVE TO BE GAY?? D':
Oh by the way, "strife" is bitter conflict, antagonism, or discord.
This poem could go on forever... Somebody stop me!! GOOD LORD.
Well so much for that,
NaPoWriMo: Day 7Watch out.NaPoWriMo: Day 72 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She’s a devil,
Glad for her spine,
& her teeth,
even God hands fear her.
For she has arched her back
for a flower-woman
with sin dripping
from her fingers
-who taught her
how to laugh
like the stars.
Tides of Earth and SkyTides of Earth and Sky3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And the ache of soul carried the torch of dreams into the sky
Upon scent of mortal thirst destiny whispered in myriad
rapture of folding tides..
Lo the mythic shore, where I — a phantasm of love bleeds
into the ether of velvet sky & ocean hymn...
Lost in the wine of omni-dreaming, for our passion tis but
the humble audience of eternity
In jeweled horizons the Goddess feasts; her gaze I cannot flee
I have crossed oceans of time & drank the song of worlds
My spirit forever slain in the beauty of her immortal sea
— Arthur Crow © 2012
ObsessionEvery second,Obsession4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When I look at you,
A new world unravels in front of me...
When I see you,
I lose track of reality...
I always make up stories,
Make up memories,
Full of expression,
Full of guilt...
I love your smile, your lips, your style,
Your voice, your eyes, your passion...
Why can't I let you go?
I know the answer...
It's an obsession!
PetitionBiblical Missiology has recently put up a very important petition.Petition3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Some mission agencies, Wycliffe, Frontiers and SIL, are producing Bibles that remove "Father", "Son" and "Son of God" because those terms are offensive to Muslims.
The petition is trying to get them NOT to produce those Bibles.
Please have a look at the links below.
Go AwayHurtGo Away8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You keep hurting me
Don't even try
To stop you
I don't give a shit
You can hurt me
All you want
It still won't change a thing
You can't make things
You've already ruined
Nothing is going to change
Whether you leave
Though I wonder
Why you bother
What is the point
Of fucking up my life?
You've accomplished your goal
And still you do not leave
But I no longer care
You can't fuck up my life
NaPoWriMo: Day 9More respectNaPoWriMo: Day 92 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for hungry lions,
doesn’t want to write this poem.
As she forgets how to use words
(on most days,)
relying on curses
like casting some witch's spell-
with only ten dollars to her name.
The oldest daughter:
she’s still somewhere in the middle,
because they had no other way
to categorize her.
Getting her first gravestone at three-
not to the gods,
but to the lily stargazers
in her palms.
she would become a bird,
& never come back.
She doesn’t want her death
laid out like a fast-food
how does she begin to explain
cultivating in her breastbone?
The Hunt for Mysterical Eggs - Ch. 3The Hunt for Mysterical Eggs - Ch. 33 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
In the Dream
In her deep slumber, Swift suddenly began dreaming in a rapid-eye movement (REM) about walking in a mysterious field of nowhere throughout the flowers.
That is until a dark figurine in a shadow cloak followed her silently without being noticed. The dark figure attempted to grab her but missed as Swift somehow walked way ahead of the figure.
Swift took a glance behind her shoulder to see if anything was following her but saw nothing but the flowers as if someone is playing ding-dong ditch on her.
"Must be my imagination," Swift shrugged and proceeded to move forward.
Before she advanced, the dark figure in a shadow cloak confronted her and showed up to reveal itself.
"Boo," The dark figure said to her lacking real effort to scare her.
"Pfft," Swift scoffed looking fearless. "You don't scare me. I had no monsters under my bed."
"Oh, you're not scared?" The dark figure said just as the dark figure removed her hood. The mysterious shadow figure revealed that it
From Whence She CameBack down to the sea-floor she goesFrom Whence She Came4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
back to the coracle-clusters and starfish that
clamour, cling to her heart too tight,
walking barefoot towards where she
came from. It is too hard walking on
earth, the way she wears pain like a wedding ring
Back down, down, crawling on her belly
on the forest-floor, alive with the buzz and crawl
of worms and bird-prey. Back where she belongs with her
crazy palpitating wolf-heart, her bloody
deer-throat leaking in the snow, her yellow
eyes in the dark.
Back down, beyond subway trains, piano lessons,
falling rain, from whence she came, to the snow-covered womb
where she first gulped air.
Back down to a place before wildflowers,
fish on land, back to a locked box
full of old souls, from whence
WingsIcarus eats his breakfast in front of the TV.Wings4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Balances his Wheaties on a butter knife
Big and strong on jagged silver cliffs.
On cloudy days, he watches fireflies
Blinking in Morse Code,
Hollering help to the tree sap they're trapped in.
He scoops ladybugs up in the crook of his elbow
To count their spots backwards,
To ask them where they've been.
He doesn't understand the morning news.
He feels it like a nosebleed,
Like a thick intrusion,
And when the worry clots on his lip, he trembles.
He says, "Papa, I wanna paint the world for you,
But it just won't sit still"
Icarus doesn't want to be in charge of hiding the universe from itself.
He's sick of kicking people out of his clubhouse.
He's got sixteen feet of imagination
Wrapped around the war monsters in his closet,
But he still can't imagine why the quiet is so tragic.
He can't figure out why he's got to hold his own hand
On the subway.
See, Icarus watches the world like an opera in ancient Greek:
He feels the words but he can
first-class funeral cheers.stick a post-it note on my head and stick me in a drawer as if you'll remember me in the morning. but you won't. not unless i cry, not unless i scream, not unless i throw my words against the walls until you hear the pulse, hear the beat of millions of phrases and definitions and images as wild as jungle throats and murdered lemons.first-class funeral cheers.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
beautiful and tragic, gorgeous and oh, my word, isn't she a genius? but they all boil down to one thing: you're gone. you aren't here. your absence is everywhere. i've erased the ends of my fingertips because they look lonely; i've shoved my hands in the garbage disposal because that's all i am. it's not pathetic, it's just life. it's just realities [a million and two different versions of the same tragedy].
my thoughts are wild, unbridled and, let's face it, stupid. they're suicide jumping off the edge of my tongue. you aren't here to fence them in and the natives are restless. they're leaping brick and mortar and cliff and stone. you aren't here. if i rep
From pretty lipsFrom pretty lips such ugly wordsFrom pretty lips3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
so filled with spite are seldom heard,
but deep inside I know they are
designed to shield a fragile heart,
to drive me further from your charms -
you hope to shelter me from harm.
I'd rather live in pain with you
than in a numbing bliss untrue.
Such poetry from such sweet lips
outshines the most dramatic script.
breaking hearts for dummies.spin me around and drain me dry, spit my promises from beneath your teeth and pick my scabs until you have me just where you want. press the bruises where they hurt most, hold me underwater until i'm purple-lipped and blue-tongued and scratching the base of my throat to bleed the oxygen from my veins.breaking hearts for dummies.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
cut my achilles' heel and watch as i stumble down the stairs, watch as i hit the second landing and crumple. tell me i look beautiful broken, tell me not to move a muscle, tell me you're going to take a photograph and i'm going to be f-f-famous for the pretty way i break apart.
tell me a picture's worth a thousand words, but wanted isn't one of them. magic isn't either so make sure i stop believing, stop wishing, stop pulling the stars from the sky and hiding them under my pillow. call me a disease and my heart a rotting corpse.
don't let me get in your way. don't let my quaking distract you, don't stop or pause or wait to hear me whisper no, hear me scream go away, hear
WiresI caught youWires6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
walking out on wires again,
falling out my window
in a trick so beautiful
that your father wept
and your lover
held his breath.
You called it
an act of defiance
in that voice
that brings me to my knees
and begs me
to argue with you
when you know
that all I really want to do
is strip the pain
from your insides
and bed you
loosely applied.it is finding yourself in the miles that stretch between yourself and the end of time. it is in the spitting up of blood at three in the morning, spelling out their name and passing out in the gore. it is in trying to find beauty in the uglies that follow you from shadow to shadow, their claws reaching out to swipe against the curve of your back, the width of your shoulders, the dip near your waist. you are breathing, but the term is loosely applied and it would be more proper to calling it gasping.loosely applied.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you are gasping. you are waking up without air and desperately wishing that you had it. you are waking up and touching the cold bed sheets and remembering when they are warm. you are waking up cradling a phone and being held by a phantom voice. "hello? hello? are you there? hello?" and you are closing your eyes and imagining through tears that the voice is home and that you are there. you are crawling between each static silence and nestling in the absence. you are pressing yours
Chicken Banana TheoryChicken Banana Theory9 years ago in Humor More Like This
Chicken Banana Theory
A man walks down the street and encounters another man. This other man believes he is a chicken, and promptly approaches the first man to inform him of this amid a series of chicken-noises. The first man acknowledges this, and hurries past.
Later, the first man is walking back along this same path and encounters the same man, though this time, the other man no longer believes that he is a chicken, but rather a banana.
This is an illogical transition– one cannot logically explain it by tracking the events that led to this mental transfiguration from chicken to banana. You cannot, for example, say that the man woke up thinking he was a chicken, had coffee, went to work, stood by the copier, and suddenly decided at that moment to become a banana. It does not follow any course of logic– it is the realm of insanity.
Consider then the deeper reasons for transition from chicken to banana. Did the man first believe he was a chicken to fulfill some need, then change his st
30 Minutes-ZaDr Dib was standing outside of his home silently. He did not approach the building, because he knew that soon it would fall to the ground and become ash. He looked to his right, just watching as the houses in that direction collapsed much like his would. Like dominoes in the wake of a blazing fire.30 Minutes-ZaDr4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He was not scared nor was he surprised by the sight, in fact there was just a numbness settling over him. He just watched in an almost sick fascination as the fire traveled closer and closer to his own home, the flames licking hungrily at the sides of the technology filled building before taking it all away in a minute or two of raging fire.
The teen stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked calmly away from the fire, he knew he couldn't stay for long because soon the spot where he was standing would be engulfed in fire as well as most everything else
Percy's Last MomentDeath, it's a funny thing. Well, not exactly in the comical sense. Everyone dies, but for some reason no one is prepared for when it happens. The people who love them are effected and there is no do-overs. Some people live their life accepting their fate, that they will pass on. They may not know where they are going, but they know it's somewhere.Percy's Last Moment3 years ago in Drama More Like This
The worst thing about death is most people can't forget it. Annabeth remembered Percy's death very clearly. Not that she wanted to, of course, but she just couldn't get it out of her head. She recalled every detail.
The thing was, Annabeth didn't want to remember. Percy had made such an impact on her life, that she couldn't bear living without him. He was like a scar that would never go away. But she couldn't just not attend the funeral for all the campers that died in the great battle.
Annabeth forced herself to go. This was an event to focus on the campers lives and the impact they made. Not the death, not the sorrow. Anyway, Annabeth had t
OrchardYour fingers are guillotines,Orchard4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
purely purposeful machines.
You pluck the apple,
and carve it clean,
find the core,
suck out the seeds.
Take a life
and taste the power,
and sugar sweet.
You thank God and the devil
with a crooked smile
that the day is young,
and so are they,
and just ripe enough
for you to eat.